


Seduced

by Kate Vassar (Xochiquetzl)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abrahamic Mythology, Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Demon Sex, Judeo-Christian-Islamic mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11632866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochiquetzl/pseuds/Kate%20Vassar
Summary: Samael has a plan.  Originally published inLike Heaven and Hellunder the title "Seduced," Circlet Press, Cambridge, MA, 2011.





	Seduced

Gabriel is so beautiful.

Of course he is;  he's an archangel.  But Gabriel is unusually beautiful, even for an archangel, no matter what form he takes.  His current favorite form includes black hair, dusky brown skin, strong black eyebrows, high cheekbones, long lashes, and a surprisingly sensual mouth.  It's the form he took when he recited the Qu'ran to Muhammad. 

Of course, I'm beautiful, too.  I like to appear with flame-red hair, a reference to the medieval witches who were thought to be my lovers.  I've taken many lovers, male, female, and in between, mortal and immortal, but I prefer my own kind.  Father's little clay dolls are too brittle. 

Gabriel's inspiring a religious poet to write something beautiful, whispering into her ear with those full, sexy lips as she types up an inspiring epic about Christ's love.  I wonder what would happen if I seduced him.  I _am_ the great seducer, after all, whispering wickedness into the ears of humanity.  Would there be no more poems, no more songs, no more holy books?  That alone would be reason to do it even if he _weren't_ gorgeous. 

He's bent over, whispering into the woman's chocolate-colored ear, and I slip up behind him and fondle him, running my hands over his buttocks and leaning forward to whisper into his ear, "Let me tell you what I'd like to do to you right now." 

His eyes close, and he licks his lips.  Then he pulls away from the woman, slowly, and turns around.  His eyes are dark, cautious, but I know he wants me.  "Hello, brother." 

"I do hope you're not trying to invoke mortal incest taboos."  I move closer.  "They don't apply to the likes of you and I." 

"How have you been?"

I laugh at him.  "Whispering sin into the ears of mortals.  Do you want to know what that sounds like?" 

_Let me tell you about your mouth, and what I want to do with it.  Your beautiful mouth, that has spoken the words of God.  I want to kiss it, devour it.  I want you to form the words of God around my cock._

Gabriel's eyes widen.  He takes a step back, but I close the distance between him, kiss him.  His lips are sweet, like clouds, like heaven, like ambrosia.  When I end the kiss, his eyes are closed.  He whispers, "You are still beloved of God." 

It hurts.  My longing for God is a constant empty ache, and it occurs to me that Gabriel can temporarily fill me.  Literally, if not spiritually. 

The poet is still sitting at her computer, inspiration all dried up.  She stares at her monitor, looking frustrated.  She can't see or hear either of us, so I laugh and pull Gabriel back to her bed. 

There's an innocence to Gabriel.  His eyes are surprised, guileless as I undress.  There's an almost shocked quality when I undress him, kissing the soft, heavenly skin as I reveal it.  He's perfect, of course.  My lips brush down his pectoral.  I lick a nipple. 

_Perfect.  Beautiful.  Your skin like silk, like feathers, like nothing no mortal can conceive.  You taste of heaven._

Gabriel draws a deep breath and licks his lips.  _Loved.  In spite of everything, you are still loved.  And on the last day my trumpet will call you home._

It's a lie, of course, but I tell him, "I don't want God's love.  I want yours." 

"It's yours," he says, and kisses me back.  It's not a chaste kiss, either, it's passionate.  "It always has been."  He pulls me closer, kisses me again, his fingers brushing my cheek and threading through my hair.  It's like a benediction, a blessing.  Like the promise of God's forgiveness on the last day. 

We tumble onto the bed and roll around kissing for awhile.  I want him to love me, need me, run away from God and stay with me forever. 

"Come home with me, Samael," he whispers.  "Tonight.  Now." 

Gabriel calling me by my old name is clever.  I want to, more than Gabriel can imagine.  But I'm not ready to go home and ask for God's forgiveness.  Not yet.  I'm as Father made me, and if he doesn't like me stubborn he has only himself to blame. 

So I grab his wrists and hold them down as I kiss my way down his body.  He struggles a little, but it's not a serious struggle.  He's not afraid, he just wants his hands free. 

I find myself nuzzling his cock.  It's circumcised, most likely because he thinks of himself as being in covenant with God.  Mine isn't, for a similar reason.  His cock is beautiful, of course.  Perfect, like the rest of him.  Huge, with a pink blush to the brown. 

I want it in me. 

But I want him to want that as badly as I do, so I take it in my mouth.  It tastes like heaven, like home.  He arches, tries to pull his wrists away.  I hold him down. 

He's speaking now, a mishmash of Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin, Arabic.  About Heaven, and God's love, and his love. 

For me. 

It doesn't matter how big his cock is.  I'm a supernatural being, after all.  Not only am I sucking his cock, I'm swallowing it, my lips up near his balls.  His eyes are wide, shocked, and there's another mishmash of holy languages.  Holy languages and love.  I'm pretty sure that no one's ever done this to him before. 

And then the speaking stops, replaced by moans.  I've reduced the messenger of God to incoherence.  I stop what I'm doing long enough to smirk at him. 

"Please, Samael.  Let go of my hands." 

I do, and he immediately runs them through my hair, caresses my head, my cheek.  He whispers, "I love you." 

It's time.  "Then take me." 

His eyes flash at me, his lips parted.  Yes. 

"Fuck me," I clarify.  "Fuck me like you _mean it_." 

He sits up and kisses me.  It's a bit more tender than what I had in mind, but it'll do. 

"Tell me where you want me."  I nip lightly at his lip.  "How do you want it?  Up against the wall?  Me on all fours?  We'll do it any way you want." 

He gently guides me onto my back.  Part of me wishes he'd defile me instead of make love to me, but I suppose I've come to the wrong place for that.  He whispers something into his hands, and then they're slick, and he's rubbing it onto that huge cock and probing my asshole with a slippery finger. 

"Yes."  I writhe under him.  "Give it to me!" 

He lifts my legs up onto his shoulders.  And then he's in me, filling me, thrusting.  It's like a fire, a purifying fire, filling me with a burning love of him and of God.  God's absence is pain, but right now it's such a sweet pain that I can't bear to be rid of it.  Ah, Gabriel, no mere mortal could give bliss like this. 

_Love you.  God loves you, and so do I.  Come home, Samael.  We love you.  We've been waiting for you._

Yes.  So good, so fucking good, fuck me, like that, yes.  Like in the beginning, when it was just us and God.  Gabriel's cock is the spear of heaven, pounding love and bliss into me with each stroke.  I want it to last forever.  I reach over my head and grab the headboard and press back, trying to encourage him to go harder.  He gets the hint and takes me with the strength of one of my own kind.  "Yes!" 

And then he's babbling in various languages how much he loves me, and I'm shouting the names of God, and then God, yes, holy motherfucking yes.  He's going to come;  let's see God make him come.  He's got an expression of almost divine ecstasy on his face, and then... fuck.

He collapses across me, and I wriggle a little so I can stretch my legs out.  He snuggles up to me and caresses my face.  "Come home with me, Samael." 

"Stay here with me, Gabriel." 

His face falls, and I realize then, from the pang in my chest, that I love Gabriel as much as he just said he loved me.  I kiss the tip of his nose, which makes him smile. 

And then he raises an eyebrow at me and says, "I can make it worth your while." 

I lick my lips. 

He smirks at me, and then he leans down and nips at my nipple.  His eyes are pure mischief.  He kisses his way down my body, whispering, "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." 

He plants a light, delicate kiss on the tip of my cock.  "In the beginning," he says, his voice conversational, "there was the Word.  And the Word was with God, and the Word was God." 

"We came first," I say. 

He smiles at me.  It's a gentle, tender, understanding smile, and it irritates me.  But then he takes my cock in his mouth, and all is forgiven.  I run my hands over his head.  His hair is so short, it's like velvet.  Oh, Gabriel.  He can blow me like a trumpet if he wants.  He's so... God. 

Gabriel isn't as innocent as he lets on.  He's done this before. 

I'm babbling now, the names of God and profanity.  If the blasphemy bothers him, he doesn't let on or let up.  He's so.. God, fuck, he's amazing.  If he made me promise to come home with him in order for him to continue, I'd promise anything. 

Of course, I probably wouldn't keep that promise. 

There's a tension in me now, a sort of ache, and I'm holding his head and thrusting at him, and he's taking it.  He makes an encouraging noise at me, and I moan and thrust and then, oh, yes, I'm arched and shouting and fuck, Gabriel, yes! 

And then he's licking his lips and moving up my body to hold me.  I wrap my arms around him.  We should have done this long ago.  I've needed this moment of grace. 

He kisses me, and then he says, "You're not coming home, are you, Samael?" 

The truth is, I want to.  I want to be with Gabriel, like this.  But I also know I'll always come second to him, after God.  Why do I always come second to the ones that matter to me?  I only come first to the fallen, and they don't count.  They don't understand Father's will like I do.  They don't know what it is to burn. 

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his.  He sighs, and relaxes slightly in my arms. 

His voice is so soft, so low.  "We could be like this.  Forever." 

"And we will be," I say.  "But Father..."

"Forgives you," he says.  "He just wants to see you again." 

I don't say anything.  I want to believe him, but I can't. 

"I could blow my trumpet and end the world," he says, "and then you'd have to believe, because of Father's word." 

I can't believe my ears.  I've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.  Gabriel is willing to end the world for me, to end all of Father's little clay dolls for the chance to be with me. 

Who, sadly, would end up underfoot in heaven.  There goes the neighborhood.  I hear the poet typing feverishly in the other room, and suspect that her work has taken on the orgasmic tones of the ecstasy of Saint Teresa of Avila. 

As I open my mouth to tell him not to do that, I find myself wondering who here seduced whom. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Like Heaven and Hell](https://www.amazon.com/Like-Heaven-Hell-Fantasy-Selections-ebook/dp/B004WDZX5I) is still in print! and the other stories are _amazing_.


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